Reflections
by Karmyn
Summary: Sequel to The Letter. Emma's thoughts when she recieves Steed's letter.


Reflections  
  
By: Karmyn  
  
Rated: PG-PG13ish  
  
Summary: Sequel to The Letter. Emma's thoughts when she receives Steed's letter.  
  
Disclaimer: If you recognize a character, they don't belong to me. I know we all want own Steed,  
  
but face it ladies, he belongs to Emma. If you don't recognize anybody, they're probably not very  
  
important.  
  
Feedback: You know what to do.  
  
The letter arrived in the afternoon post on Tuesday. It was mixed in with a pile of bills and invitations to various society and charity functions. The bills could wait until after dinner. The invitations would wait for later when I could make a better decision as to which were most important and were not just an attempt at matchmaking by well meaning, but misguided, friends. My friends never believed me when I told them that I was happy to be single again, probably because it was a lie. There was only one man I was interested in, but I didn't even know if Steed was aware that Peter and I had divorced over a year ago. I had never quite gotten up the courage to ask any mutual friend about him.  
  
The divorce was amiable. Peter and I both realized that it was inevitable. The first six months were fine, as we were always busy. Life was just one party after another, leaving us with very little time to ourselves. After that, when things calmed down, we had time to get reacquainted and quickly realized that neither of us was the same person we had been four years before. We tried to make it work, but it was obvious we just weren't in love anymore.  
  
I don't know what would have happened if things had been different, if he'd never been lost, if I had never met Steed.  
  
Yes, Peter knew about Steed. He never asked me directly, but I told him anyway. I never gave him exact details about any case we worked on because that would have been against the Official Secrets Act. I'm sure the Ministry kept tabs on me just in case. Peter had probably heard the rumors, so I told him the truth. I told him that, yes, Steed and I had been lovers while we worked together, but we were very discreet. We had pretended to be just friends in public, but there were rumors of more because we spent so much time together. Peter took it like a gentleman. He never asked me if I loved Steed and he never mentioned it during the divorce.  
  
Peter had remarried a very nice woman named Nancy and they were currently on holiday in Spain. I had received a card from them the day before saying that they were having a lovely time and wanted to get together for dinner when they returned.  
  
I was sorting out the bills and invites for later when I noticed the letter. I didn't recognize the handwriting on the envelope, but I did instantly recognize the Ministry mark. That could only mean one of two things. Either I was in danger or, God forbid, something had happened to Steed.  
  
With trembling fingers, I opened the envelope and pulled out two pieces of paper, one a very fine, expensive piece of stationary and the other yellowed and wrinkled with age. There was a strange rust colored smear on it. Blood, I remember thinking, Steed's blood. Something terrible had happened to Steed and I had wasted the last year because I was too afraid he would reject me as I had done to him.  
  
I unfolded the first piece of paper, trying to prepare myself for whatever it might say. It was from Mother. I wasn't sure whether that was good or bad. Being an amateur, I had never had as much contact with Mother as Steed did. The note was short, stating that I was to come to the Whitehall office as soon as possible when I received the letter. Not a strange request considering the type of things the Ministry dealt with.  
  
I unfolded the other paper carefully so it wouldn't tear. I instantly recognized Steed's handwriting. For a moment I was elated to hear from Steed, but then I realized that if the Ministry was sending this letter, something was wrong. I slowly, carefully read the letter, devouring his words of love. No matter what, I knew he still loved me.  
  
But where was he now? Had he made it back to England or had his luck really run out somewhere in Russia? Would I never again look into those soft grey eyes or feel his arms around me? Had I wasted all this time staying away only to lose him again forever?  
  
I put the letter back in the envelope and went to fix myself a drink. I still bought his favorite brandy and his favorite champagne, perfectly chilled, thinking that one day he would drive up in the big green Bentley and we could pick up where we left off before. I poured myself a brandy and sat down on the sofa to collect my thoughts.  
  
I took out the letter and began rereading it, remembering the things that he mentioned, like the day we met. Yes, what a happy accident that was indeed.  
  
It was one of those all too rare Spring days where the sky was a clear blue and the temperature was warm enough to drive with the top down. It had been eight months since Peter's accident and I was tired of mourning. I wanted to enjoy myself and not feel guilty about it.  
  
I had gone shopping and then treated myself to lunch at a favorite restaurant. I was feeling like myself for the first time in a long time. Yes, I had loved Peter and losing him hurt, but I was still alive. It was time to start living again.  
  
After lunch I decided to do some more shopping. I had bought a lovely dress that I didn't have shoes to match. I admit I like to keep in fashion so I was headed to a favorite store to buy new shoes. I pride myself on being an excellent driver, but that afternoon I was distracted. Suddenly I looked up and saw a car up ahead that was stopped. I tried to stop, but didn't have enough room. I rear ended the car ahead of me. I knew it was my fault. I should have noticed the car sooner. After all, one doesn't see too many large green Bentleys on the streets of London.  
  
I got out of my car, hoping the other driver wouldn't be irrational. It was my fault and I would be able to pay for damages. Examining the two cars I saw that the Bentley had barely suffered a scratch, but the bonnet of my little Lotus was badly crumpled. Good thing I have excellent insurance.  
  
Looking up from my car, I found myself looking into the most incredible grey eyes. The rest of him was just as incredible, tall and impeccably dressed in a dark suit with a matching bowler and umbrella. An umbrella on such a clear day? "Is anything hurt?" he asked and for a moment I wanted to swoon so I could know what it would feel like to be held in those arms. But I've never been the helpless female type.  
  
"Just the bonnet of my car," I answered. "I'm sure my insurance will cover it."  
  
We argued over whose fault it was for a few minutes and decided it was indeed his fault when he told me that he had to brake suddenly to avoid a cat. I agreed to let him pay for the damage and also to have dinner with him the next night. It was the beginning of a new life for me.  
  
I had known Steed for about two months when he asked me to work with him. I agreed without hesitation. I enjoyed spending time with him and this way I would get to do that and protect my country. We were already lovers. By Christmas we were a committed couple.  
  
We went many places together, both on cases and on holiday, but Paris was the best. For a moment I really believed he had forgotten my birthday. After all, it had been a very harrowing case. I don't think we got much done that we had planned. I don't think we ever used the second room very much. At least the hotel had excellent room service. We did eat out once, the first night. Much of the rest of the time was spent making love. It was almost as if we knew it would end soon and wanted to enjoy each other while we still could.  
  
I had to know if Steed was still alive and if he was, where he was. I drove to the Whitehall office as quickly as possible and ran to Mother's office, ignoring everyone who tried to speak to me. Mother wasn't surprised when I walked into his office and demanded to know what had happened to Steed.  
  
"I've been expecting you, Mrs. Peel," he said. "Would you like a drink?"  
  
"No," I told him. "I just want my questions answered."  
  
"You can relax, Mrs. Peel," Mother said. "Steed was found alive in Russia and is now recovering at out hospital."  
  
I sighed in relief, controlling my emotions in front of Mother. Inside I was elated. Steed was alive! I had to see him. "Is he allowed visitors?" I asked calmly. "I would like to see him."  
  
Mother smiled, an almost disturbing image. "I can call and tell the doctor to let you visit. I trust you remember the location and can keep it secret?"  
  
I nodded, resisting the urge to hug the large man. "Thank you very much."  
  
Ten minutes later I was on my way to the hospital. A nurse escorted me to Steed's room. I had visited Steed in hospitals before, but I had never seen him like this. He was pale and thin, he thick dark hair quite a mess. He hadn't shaved in days. Had he been awake, Steed would have been upset. He was quite vain about his hair and hated to be unshaven.  
  
But he was alive. That was the important thing. I pulled up a chair beside his bed and sat down. I took his hand in mine and gently stroked it. "I'm here, Steed," I told him, hoping he could hear me. "I got your letter and I feel the same. I love you."  
  
His eyes fluttered open and he turned to look at him. How I had missed those grey eyes. He smiled weakly. "Emma," he whispered and I knew that everything would be okay. We had our second chance and this time we would do it right.  
  
The End 


End file.
